


First Breath After Coma

by cytara



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Convoluted so make sure you've had your caffeine for the day, F/M, Mild Smut, Mystery, No Cersei, No Twincest, Westworld (HBO) Inspired, cryptic, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:15:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23550673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cytara/pseuds/cytara
Summary: Living in ancient Westeros, Jaime and Brienne are thrust from peace and happiness into a world of separation and war. When Jaime finally finds Brienne, she doesn’t remember him. Jaime struggles to recover their tranquil life.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 27
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Amnesia was almost a winning prompt on the JB subreddit. Though it didn't win, I had to write this!
> 
> A big thank you to weboury on reddit, who beta'd this work even after I accidentally messaged them for help. Ha! 
> 
> This work gets a bit cryptic at times, if not all the time, so hang in there. Time moves rather quickly. It's confusing, which is why I picked first person POV. I’m trying to step a bit out of my comfort zone with this fic, as it’s my first 1st person POV story. I don’t see a lot of 1st POV stories in J/B works, so here we go. Wish us luck.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

I remember everything I have seen—all the lives I have lived. I once had a very different path. 

It started when I woke from a dream. Eyes fluttered open to a happy home, filled with breaths as peaceful as horses grazing on grass. As humble as tree roots growing and clasping their fingers together underground. It was everything I wanted.

Brienne wore porcelain skin, though it was stronger than bear hide. To me, she was beautiful—scars, eyes, _legs_ and all. We lived an easy life in our home, waking every day to watch the sun rise and set. Her eyes always paid attention to the details, like her painted shield in the corner. Her fingers dragged across its surface, similar to the ways her hand crawled over their fur covers when I kissed her awake in the mornings. Each morning—she woke smiling. I smiled back. Always.

“I have a gift for you,” I said. By the time I turned with the sheathed sword, its beauty already claimed her. Brienne’s unforgettable eyes lost themselves in the blade’s glimmering rubies, colors of blood and black.

“Valyrian steel?” she asked, sitting up in our bed. The fur blanket slipped off of her bare chest, revealing her round, small but _distracting_ breasts. Brienne’s face burned as if she spent too much time under Dornish rays, and one of her hands clutched back the fur to return her modesty. Brienne’s lips parted as she said, “I have never seen such colors.”

“Nor I,” I said, running my left hand over my nearly perfect, clean shaven face. Not a hair misbehaved, and at night, she kissed songs against my skin. Her eyes lingered on my jaw as if she saw one of the Gods in flesh. I lowered my left hand and said, “It would please me if you would call this one Oathkeeper.”

Her eyes lit up as if it was her name day, except a wrinkle grew between her brows. “I can’t acc—”

“You must. It’s yours.” I refused to allow her refusal. And her chest bloomed as I stood from our bed. My loose leather jerkin protected against the cold air in our small home, and I never once felt a goosebump with her warming my heart. I gathered a small satchel for the day’s activities and struggled to stuff it with stale oatcakes next to our hearth. “Where will you go today?” I asked across our room, gazing past planks of ebony wood and crimson rugs. 

Both of her hands clenched around Oathkeeper, holding it closer to her chest as she said, “North.” 

I nodded and walked over to kiss her goodbye.

Her fluttering lips and smiling eyes described love better than words.

Just outside our home was an entire world. I stepped into a courtyard garden, one of the best in King’s Landing. Pollinating bees and wasps buzzed in a sea of rose bushes, ready to burst in bloom. Their leaves waved in the wind, greeting me good morning—as they did each morning. Beyond them were close neighbors, smiling and nodding from afar.

We shared breakfast as a community, enjoying teas and nibbling sweets before the sun crept higher into the sky. Without war, there was little to do and an abundance of time. We liked it that way. Olenna Tyrell, with her wit and tongue, lived nearest to us. She never stepped far away from her beloved granddaughter, Margaery. The pretty young woman loved to spend her day mazing through the rose bushes, fingernails plucking against rose thorns as if they were a harp. Her unmistakable brunette curls coiled down her frame like fingers from a vine.

With my belly full, mind ready and mouth whistling, I set off to scout outside of King’s Landing. What I found changed our entire lives.

I heard the sound of cracking trees echoing across the sky. Again, and again, and again. It was a quick, powerful thunder, yet no clouds scratched the sky. With each bang, my eyebrows sank deeper. Alone, and curious, I walked towards the noises. My heart quickened at the thought of protecting my people—but it demanded investigation.

As I walked through different city gates, I stepped into another world. Dirt roads and alleys of King’s Landing flattened under sprawling bodies. One dead person after another, their blood drifted like clouds across their clothes. It looked like war. And yet, no swords sang, no cries shouted, and I only heard... _music._

My fingers waved. My brow arched. My mouth opened. Each cautious foot brought me closer to louder music, yet its source evaded me. I wished I had Oathkeeper. Surely, whatever foe massacred these people had me as their target. Each lifeless body appeared more similar to the last. As I turned a corner, the brothel's open doors stared at me. A singular chair, misplaced, planted itself in the dirt. In front of it was one man, facing me, bleeding more than the rest.

I stepped forward, head cocked to the side as I stared at him. His blood soaked into an oddly tailored tunic, the color of dull lavender. Curious vertical, black contraptions snaked over his belly and shoulders. I had never seen such an outfit before. Rounding his side, my eyes caught another side of his head. He was a dark man with balding, wiry black hair. I smelled his blood, more than any others. My eyes, with a will of their own, began to well at the sight of him. 

The man's body continued to bleed as I walked into the brothel. Buzzes surrounded me, not from bees—flies. No whores or wenches sauntered over, and I was alone. They were all dead outside. A large glass bottle filled with amber liquid sat in the middle of a large table in the entryway. Beside it, a wooden circle. A perfect circle. My hand reached out to pick it up. It rattled. Inside, along with rounded walls and weaved pathways, a small metal ball clattered between walls. It was a labyrinth—a maze. In its center, walls formed the outline of a human. My eyes couldn’t look away, even once I convinced myself the maze stared back at _me._ I wondered what it meant…a message I didn’t understand. A fly landed and crawled across my thumb. I hardly felt it.

Returning the maze to its place, I turned towards mine—walking over bodies and away from music. The maze never left my mind, yet, I did not understand it.

But there would be no point in knowledge without sharing it with others. I tried my hand at drawing the same maze on the sapwood of a log, ignoring people’s narrowing glares at my behavior. Only one pair of blue eyes mattered to me.

Brienne stepped closer, peering down as the sun beamed behind her. The shadow of her long body crept over my poorly drawn maze.

“What does it look like to you?” I asked, holding back a clenched, aching hand.

“A game,” she said, tilting her head to the side.

My thumb rubbed over my index finger. The sensation soothed me, as if my fingers rusted. But in my mind—something opened. It wasn’t just a game. It was a puzzle. Before I understood it, they took everything from me. And it was the first time I lost her. 

I dreamed I was cold, with a spine of steel, sitting upon an Iron Throne. Windowless lights warmed skin, flesh and bone I could no longer move. Even in the dream, my eyes remained open and my heart remained calm.

Beside me, a ghost with golden hair and dressed in black sneered at me. She asked, “What’s his problem?” 

I tried to respond, but my mouth refused to move. My lungs and chest petrified as my consciousness roused in this dreamlike state. 

“More aggressive. More bloodshed. Ford wants a new story,” a mirroring ghost said, towering over me.

I no longer wanted to dream, because I knew what the dream meant. A war was coming. I tried to close my eyes, and my eyelids ignored me. My mind tried to picture Brienne, the maze—anything to return back to reality.

War was already around me when I woke. I came out breathing fire.

To protect my people and city, I traveled north with a group of Lannister men. I was told to lead and I led well. We fought howling Stark soldiers, rebels of the crown. Mounted on our trusted steeds, we hunted them through the Riverlands. Wolves squealed like pigs whenever we cornered them. Podrick, one of my squires, never lost his wide, young eyes—even when we crossed rivers swollen with dead bodies.

Like any war, it kept going. I tried to end it, as there could only be so many Stark men willing to travel down or defend their honor, but they kept coming. Every single day, we scouted around the Riverlands and managed to find a small group of them near Harroway. The idiots never learned.

My men and I dismounted, drawing our swords and pushing back Stark men to the river, half-choked with fallen leaves. Tall oaks whispered above us, and sunlight filtered from above. Scents of pine and dirt coated my tongue. It wasn’t nature I looked forward to. It was justice. I would be lying if I said I did not love killing them. There was something primal about shoving a sword through someone’s soft flesh.

“Such a small pack of wolves,” I said, feeling the sword come alive in my hands. My fingers rolled against hilt. 

“May your honor haunt you in your dreams, Kingslayer,” the Stark men said with a dark look. His long hair stuck against his perspiring, greasy face and graying beard.

That taunt was hardly new, yet, none of these fools were there to see the start of it. My left hand ran across my beard while other Lannister soldiers butchered the rest of the skittering wolves. I arched a brow and said, “Honor’s protected you very well.”

Honor: as weak as a man in a brothel. Men always fell for the same mistakes. While the man’s longsword climbed, I thrust my sword straight into his eye. Smeared with blood, the blade peeked out through the back of his skull. As the man fell limp, I grew angry. Killing these men did nothing to end our perpetual stalemate.

“Where next, m’lord?” Podrick asked, struggling to clean gore off of his blade. 

I stared ahead, watching a few birds struggle to land and drink from the river without letting it sweep them away. One bird plopped onto a half-submerged stone and dipped its beak into a cupped leaf. “Go to Harrenhal,” I said, sheathing my sword. “I will go alone. And I will find you later.”

Podrick’s eager nods failed to hide his fear, but he would follow a command straight into a dragon’s mouth if I told him to do so. A good lad.

After mounting my horse, I set off away from the sun, riding north. Green began to creep back into the world, followed by a thin, sheer blanket of white. Something deep inside me knew I would find answers… something to end the wars. Something to end suffering, plaguing Westeros.

Instead, when seeking shelter on a cold night, I found a dead horse outside of a cave. No blood soaked the snow beneath it—the horse had collapsed. I sank my weight into the seat of the saddle and my own horse stopped. Its ears turned towards the cave entrance. We heard whispers. It was an answer, and I only needed the patience to listen.

I tied my horse to a blackened tree and let him graze on a few bushes while I stepped into the cave. Murmurs thundered across stone walls and the day’s dying light struggled to illuminate a slovenly, naked man huddled against a large boulder. He appeared young, though the scum added years against him. His beard and hair tangled within themselves. I knew in an instant—he wasn’t from Westeros. 

“Dr—drowning—F—fu—fucker—” His mutters stopped when he saw me, and his eyes twitched and trembled. “This…” he said, speaking to me and gesturing out of the cave. “This is an _illusion._ You see? This is all... broken.” The man stifled his own sobs between chapped lips, all while I stood and stared. His breathing labored. “There’s, there’s, there’s, there’s gotta, got to be a way out. Where’s the door? Where’s the _door?_ There’s gotta be—Fucking way out of here. This—” His eyes glared at mine. “This is the _wrong_ world.”

I narrowed my eyes on him. Exposure drove him mad. I turned and walked to my horse, only a few feet away. My right hand twitched as I grabbed the blanket underneath my saddle. This man needed it more than I did. A look of awe overcame him when I walked back and placed the warm layer over his shoulders. Killing him would not fulfill me or bring me closer to ending the war. No longer reticent, my frown bled through while I said, “Your people will come for you.”

But his words made my right hand twitch.

When I left and found Podrick, he had already managed to capture a man named Garth. I cocked my head at the man while I still sat on my horse. His eyes shifted around while Podrick offered a proud grin. It was progress—in some direction, I wasn’t yet sure where. 

“You don’t smell like a dog. Your family name?” I asked the chained man. His pompous green attire contrasted his dried cherry face.

“T—Tyrell.”

Filled to the brim with a half-smile, I said, “I have been waiting for a reason to go back to King’s Landing. Though, I expected a prettier rose.” My horse chewed at his bit underneath me while I shrugged. “Queen of Thorns expects the same. Unchain him. Get him a horse. We ride as fast as he can get those boar feet in his stirrups.”

The group of us traveled south and trotted through King’s Landing’s gates. I could never knock the dust and smells of privies out of my nose, but my eyes were wide to be back. It had been too long. Several whores and ladies held back their smirks when their eyes landed on my face. Even with a beard, I killed women with one look. Shame I had no interest.

Arriving in the rose garden in the morning, my right hand tingled as I dismounted. Scents of pollen and earth welcomed us, along with people’s blank and cautious stares. War hadn’t yet reached King’s Landing, and our dirty armors and equines raised their brows. Even so, I tempted myself to whistle or hum, but Podrick’s pale face stopped me.

Podrick guided Garth forward while Olenna approached. “A pride of lions stalking through my gardens. What is the meaning of this?”

“I come bearing a gift and asking a favor,” I said, tucking one of my thumbs through my sword belt—the other on my golden sword hilt. “We found this Tyrell near Harrenhal, and you know roses don’t thrive there.”

“What do you want for him?” Olenna asked. Her eyes narrowed for a second. Behind her, Margaery listened with pursed lips while her coiled brown hair clung into an extending rose cane.

I held back a squint. Olenna wasn’t nearly as appreciative as I expected. After lifting my chin, my eyes gazed around while I said, “The war’s not over. We could use money, men, warriors.” The maze of bushes budded, preparing to bloom. Random rainbows of color pattered across the courtyard. Several servants knelt into mulch and plucked tiny aphids off of each rose leaf. My fingers rolled and waved against the rubies of my sword.

“I have a bag of golden dragons. I shall give you half to see you and your tomcats on your way,” Olenna said. 

I debated arguing with the thorned woman, but the scenic view inclined my head to nod. Olenna turned her head towards a servant while Podrick padded Garth’s back. And when the group of them stepped to the side, I stood still—waiting. 

But then I saw her. I saw Brienne.

With mouth parted and brow arched, I stared across the courtyard. She wore a suit of armor, standing taller than any other soul there, including mine. My hand clenched my sword hilt to the point I could no longer feel it. My legs begged me to step forward, run forward, storm forward. _Brienne._ Past green rose hips, her blue eyes sparked up to meet mine. Those eyes. I could never forget them.

“Brienne!” I said.

She heard me, but her lips pressed together while her shoulder hunched forward. Brienne’s hand reached for her sword, still sheathed at her hip. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and glared in my direction. Tyrell colors and roses draped over her shoulders and chest. She saw me as an enemy—not a lover. She didn’t remember me. I considered running over to her. She would remember my smell. My voice. My eyes. My kiss. Oathkeeper. 

A short man puffed out his skunk chest and glared up at me. “Stop staring at her or we will throw you in the bear pit,” he said. 

With one smack, I could have ended this man. He had been hit before. A scar ran down his lazy face as I narrowed my eyes at him. I said, “My eyes look where it pleases me, and right now, I’m seeing chains choking your neck.”

Olenna shuffled herself over, pressing her face closer towards the shorter man. “Hush, Hyle. Plants speak more believable threats than you.” Her clouding eyes turned towards me while her wrinkled, leathered lips feigned a smile. Her words, however, made her intent very clear. She said, “Nothing brightens up a garden like your absence, Lord Lannister.”

I clenched my jaw, lifting my eyes to see Brienne still squinting and glaring from afar. I wondered what made her forget me—forget us. It might have been my beard. It might have been time. It might have _them._

Open cracks inside me did not answer, and in the end, I decided to turn away and command my men to leave. We had a war to fight. A war to win.

Something was wrong in this world.


	2. Chapter 2

Returning to her remained my primary goal. Each sunrise spent without her was another sunrise wasted. My eyes imagined us waking in bundled furs and smiles. But her eyes did not remember me. I did not know how. It had been a few years since the war started, and seeing her felt like my heart surfaced water. In that time, something forced her to forget me.

Stronger, my sense grew. With Podrick and other men by my side, we nearly achieved our goal of winning the war. In the Riverlands, surrounded by rivers smelling worse than rotten, overripe fruit, Stark men cowered in front of us.

A group of us parried and pressed our fighting matches against the trunks of oaks and curves of rivers. Four men, as spooked as horses, backed their feet until they almost slipped on rocks and into water.

“Such a small pack of wolves,” I said, fingers twitching against my golden hilt. Not a grain of fear flickered within me as I smirked, glittering blade in my hand. This man’s blood was about to soak through it.

One of the Stark men shook his head while Podrick and a few men began their own assaults. Through matted hair stuck on his cheeks, the man said, “May your honor haunt you in your dreams, Kingslayer.”

I furrowed my brow. Honor did not haunt me in my dreams. Brienne did. She never called me Kingslayer. I held my sword back and turned around. Similar to previous times, killing these men myself would not win the war. I chose to adapt instead.

As I walked away, Podrick stuttered amid a mouth fluttering like a fledgling’s wings.

“Finish them,” I said, mounting my horse. I needed to find a way out of the war caging me in, and this was not the answer.

I rode north and I rode alone. Brienne said she would ride north, but I did not find her. I tried to find the man who spoke of the door, but he was not inside the cave buried in snow. Scavenging, I found food, clothes, lumber and shelter while I rode harder and longer than I ever had before.

From the distance, a large wall of ice crept into my vision. It looked like a mountainous wave frozen in mid-air. My horse’s hooves crunched through beds of ice and snow as we approached. And as I ascended up a small hill, with the wall of ice blocking half the sky—I saw it. I saw the door.

A pit as large and long as the wall sank into the ground. Hundreds of yards across and many more deeper. Not a soul breathed, except my own lungs and the horse beneath me. My mind almost failed to comprehend the door’s existence. Metal fingers crawled down into the pit, stretching past ridges of exposed dirt and rock in the ground. With tilted head and frowning brows, I urged my horse closer to the entrance, and the walls of the pit sloped into a big black hole. Clouds of dust swirled from thick walls of frozen dirt. A pebble tripped inside, sinking until my eyes and ears could no longer track it. Layers of metal tubes stacked inside the pit, like a large organ instrument in the Great Sept of Baelor. My eyes found no discernible safe way down, but I found it. I found the door. And this was the key to ending the war. It was the key to saving my people... and Brienne. 

This was the wrong world.

I had a choice. I could spend the rest of my life trying to find my way in, and escape... but it would mean nothing without _her._

Turning, I urged my horse south to find her. I found Podrick and my men near Raventree Hall. It surprised me to see the weasel Hyle chained and grumbling against a tree.

“I would rather have fleas for company,” I said, curling my lip at the sight of him.

“He followed us, m’lord,” Podrick said. “He says he needs help saving a lady.”

After clenching my jaw and narrowing my eyes at him, I asked, “Where?”

Tied and struggling, Hyle forced a smile and shook his head. He inhaled a deep breath and said, “Harrenhal.”

Harrenhal wasn’t near King’s Landing, but it was far closer and far quicker. I remained on my horse and commanded half of my thirty men to follow me, and the other half to take Hyle home—wherever unfortunate place claimed that right.

My seat ached and my hand trembled by the time we cantered through Harrenhal’s gates. Golden and crimson Lannister armor clanked and rattled along my shoulders, chest and back. Ominous, blinding gray clouds dulled the earth around us. In the distance, a ferocious roar gnawed holes into my stomach. Faster, I galloped through yards and across ruins.

Almost falling out of the saddle, I hoisted myself off the steed at the sound of cheers and yells. Clambering up a set of wooden stairs, the horrendous sight confronted me. Brienne was dressed in half-torn pink silk and in the middle of a pit—face to face with a beast of a bear. Ten yards across and five yards deep, cheering men on benches surrounded the stone walled pit. Brienne stumbled back and away from the beast, ducking her lengthy body away from the creature’s erupting swipes. Armed with a wooden mess of a thing, hardly a sword and even worse defense. Both of my hands gripped my golden sword, ready to toss it down while Podrick and a few of my men swarmed around me.

No, it would not do.

I reached over the marble railing and sank into the pit like an anchor, unable to climb out with my life or sanity. But as a knight, and a knight in love, I could not do anything else.

“Get behind me,” I said to her.

She jerked her head around, a pile full of dirt and sweat. She scowled and crinkled her nose while the bear approached us both. Looking into her eyes, I saw it: distrust. Still, she did not remember me. Her eyes lingered for a moment, squinting and narrowing while I wielded a sword one of my men tossed down into the pit.

The bear lifted up and pulled its boulder arm back, ready to strike. I lunged forward and tackled Brienne away. The faintest touch of her against my skin nearly killed me. It had been years since I had touched her—yet it felt like yesterday. The war was a lie, and I could not live another day without her. She growled at me, forcing me between two bears. I turned, facing the hairy beast as he went on his hind legs again. My hand itched and buzzed above my hilt. A feather sprouted beneath its eye and it breathed out a loud, painful groan. More crossbows fired, ripping through dense flesh. Drawing their arrows and pointing their crossbows, my men attacked the bear while Harrenhal’s crowd shouted their curses and threats. The bear swiped. I stepped backwards, lengthening an arm to protect Brienne behind me, although her contorted, grimacing face did not welcome my efforts. Several arrows in, the bear sprawled out across the dirt with a thundering growl and died.

Outside of the pit, several men tried to kill me due to a sudden loss of their entertainment. After our men and harsh words avoided their threats, Brienne, the one of a kind woman she was, tried to sneak and duck her way out unnoticed. But my eyes never left her.

“Tie her up and prepare her for riding,” I instructed my men.

They nodded and turned towards her while her chin jutted out in my direction. She did not just misremember me, she _hated_ me. Four men held her still while a fifth wrapped thick cords of rope around her wrists. Thick with anger, Brienne said, “I am not pledged to you, Kingslayer.”

Half tempted to correct her with my name, I bit and held my tongue—eyes narrowing and lips twisting. Somewhere...deep inside of her, my name slept. I could hear it rolling off the edge of her tongue. If I imagined hard enough, I could feel her lips smiling against mine. 

With many eyes staring at me for a command, including her sapphires, I turned to Podrick. I said, “Give me your sharpest dagger and leave us be.”

Podrick nodded and obliged. While our hands transferred his dagger, I said, “Take care of yourself, Podrick.” I never expected to see him again.

“Of course, m’lord. I will see you when you return.”

When I hoisted a stiff Brienne into my horse’s saddle while men held the reins in place, I realized I would never set foot in Harrenhal again. I intended to leave, saving Brienne from her worst horrors.

With Brienne’s steel back and clenched hands, we rode north. I sat behind her, rolling my hips alongside hers as our horse walked through forests, brooks and roads. Brienne had never been much of a conversationalist, but now, she turned mute. She continued to flinch away from me whenever my arms brushed against hers. Still, I tried to give her as much distance as two sharing a horse allowed. 

I stopped our ride at the river tributary and helped her dismount. She nearly killed me.

Her tied hands reached for my sword hilt and dagger, ready to plow a blade straight into my belly. The glaring look in her rabid eyes, it hurt to see. She feared I came to rape her. My free hands outpowered her restrained ones, and we struggled against a tree. Veins throbbed in my neck as I tried to tie her against an oak trunk. She clenched her teeth and growled while I used untied reins to reinforce her bodily restraint to the tree. 

In her mind, she would never listen to me. And I did not blame her. She did not recognize me, and I knew why—because they told her to forget me. Telling her would not achieve my goal. I needed to _show_ her.

Tied to the tree, she watched amidst sour glares while I knelt beside the river. Piece by piece, I took off my armor. I dipped my head in running water and pulled out the dagger Podrick gave me. In it, I saw my reflection. My golden beard appeared darker than I expected, and freckles of gray sprouted within it. Small wrinkles laughed beside my eyes, but they looked no worse than years prior. I brought the dagger to my own throat, dragging the sharp edge against my neck. A tuft of hair fell into the river, floating like a leaf downstream. I did not stop until my skin resembled a time before: happy, peaceful and in love. I was still in love. 

Clean shaven, I stood and turned. Her eyes continued to glare. My face was not enough. I yearned for her to open for me.

Believing in us, I stepped forward. Her chin lifted as I approached. Her entire body tensed and flinched while I yanked reins away from her belly and chest. My other hand, still clenching the dagger, stretched forward and cut free the ropes binding her wrists and body to the trunk. I reminded myself not to fear her, although any sane man would.

She sprung herself free like a dragon let out of captivity. Her face snarled and arms spread out wide, ready to assault and to kill.

I dropped the dagger and held out my left hand in surrender, palm up. I crouched lower, trying my best to signal to her I was no threat—only a memory wishing to breathe again. My tingling right hand reached for my sword hilt. As I pulled it out, my fingers clasped around the red rubies and golden handle.

She stopped, except her eyes, widening. Her lips quivered at the sight of my sword. But it was never my sword to begin with, even though I carried it for years.

I held out the sword towards her, hilt in her direction. “I have a gift for you,” I said.

Her blue eyes lost themselves in the swirls of the blade. Brienne’s eyebrows furrowed and sank while her feet buckled underneath her. I waited for her to mention its steel or colors, but her lips continued to shake. Cracks formed within her. 

I stepped closer, and she flinched back—her eyes snapping up towards mine. I swallowed and stretched the sword towards her. I said, “It would please me if you would call this one Oathkeeper.”

The same wrinkle grew between her brows. She blinked—lips ceasing their trembles. With a single breath, Brienne’s posture bloomed and straightened while her eyes stared into mine, as if the first time. “I—” she started.

I held my breath as her eyes widened and welled.

“I—I can’t acc—” she stumbled.

“You must,” I said, nodding my head. “It’s yours.”

“Jaime?”

I nodded again—my own lips quaking. 

She remembered. And she weeped. Her chest rattled and expanded while her eyes lifted and gazed all around her. Years of forgetting me washed away. Each breath deeper than the last as she finally awoke from her coma. 

I pulled her into a tight embrace, burying my face into the base of her neck. Her wide arms, riddled with goosebumps, wrapped around my back while we held each other. I never smiled so widely before, but our journey had merely started.

Brienne and I pulled back, still cradling each other in our palms. I stifled back my swelling emotion and said, “This world is wrong. It is not the world we belong in, but I have found the way out. Let me show you.” 

The two of us rode north to find the door. We scavenged for food, clothes and shelter along the way. Even through the toughest of times, we still smiled at each other. Oathkeeper strapped to her side, we avoided the main roads and people. Weather worsened, but we failed to mind. With Brienne, staying warm was easy. We made love for more hours than we slept.

And when the iced wall came into my view, I held my breath. Our horse walked up the slope, and as we neared the hill’s peak, I stared down into a field of snow. The pit no longer existed. The door was hidden from me—hidden from us.

Brienne turned her head back, reaching for my hand while she frowned. I remained quiet, staring at my own memories in my head. I could not have imagined the dark earth beneath the ground, or the sound of pebbles sinking. 

Underneath a large stone terrace, we made camp. Brienne set her head on my lap while we both stared into the fire. I held back my frown as I wondered how to get the door back—or how to find another one. My tingling hand brushed against Brienne’s cheek. Her face bore new scars, however subtle they were, but she had the same number of freckles. Brienne’s eyes caught me staring, and her pensive gaze turned playful.

She said, “I feel like I have loved you for so many lifetimes.” Her eyes and lips smiled and turned back to the fire. “I remember that.” Brienne’s hand reached out to grab my right hand. She stared at it, as if something was wrong. I turned it around in her palm, and she smiled.

“The door is close. I can feel it—even stronger when I am with you,” I said, eyes latching onto hers.

Oathkeeper rested against one thigh while her pale strands of hair flattened against the other. She gazed up at me. Brienne’s lips tightened before she asked, “What is on the other side?”

I rubbed and clenched my hand on her shoulder, shaking my head. “Somewhere our memories will be safe. Trust me, it is as real as you or me.”

Brienne lifted herself off of my lap and prowled closer—her forehead a breath away from mine. “Nothing is more true than how I feel about you.”

I leaned forward, consuming her with a kiss I could never tire of giving. I knocked Oathkeeper aside, kissing Brienne until she moaned. We rushed to undo our breeches. I forced her fabric lower, unable to tolerate not facing her. Brienne spread her fragile and tenacious thighs for me. Her thick lips burned against the shell of my ear as I thrust into her, trees listening to her whimpers. I could _feel_ her pulse quicken around my cock—but nothing felt better than hearing my name as she came. I knew she felt the same.

We slept easily, though we woke up hungry. While I fished for breakfast, Brienne stayed at camp to tend to the fire. 

Returning, a carriage without a horse rested beside our fire. I stopped. My fingers rolled and rubbed, dropping the line of fresh fish onto the snow. Brienne sat in the back of the open carriage—her eyes staring plainly ahead. I forgot to breathe, shaking my head until my feet flew forward. I ran as fast I could, willing to race right into a dragon’s mouth if it meant I would save her. Two heavily bundled men sat at the front while the carriage started to move forward—riding out of our campsite and deeper into the forest. It failed to scare me, and I ran faster.

But it was faster than me.

When they left with Brienne, they took my breath with them. Nothing described my heartbreak well enough—we were so close to our goal. I cursed loud enough to wake giants and retrieved her sword, Oathkeeper, left behind. Hope pushed me forward. I found her before, and I planned to find her again. On my horse, alone, I traveled south. I found Podrick and my men near Harrenhal—including the damnable Hyle, asking his same request to rescue his woman at the bear pit. Hyle was as reliable as the Freys, and I should have known Brienne had been taken back to the bear pit. I nearly lost my men, racing towards the Harrenhal. If I had to remind Brienne who I was all over again, I would.

Cheers rang throughout the skies as I scrambled off of my horse and up the steps. My hands clenched the railing while my chest struggled for air. Inside, a bear roared towards Brienne—dressed in the same silk rags they put her in before.

I jumped down, wasting no time to unsheathe Oathkeeper. “Get behind me,” I said.

The bear swiped forward, raking its claws against Brienne’s chest. She let out a guttural growl as I lurched forward. Arrows thrummed past and into the bear as if a dozen quail fluttered from cover. She refused to retreat. About to lose my heart, I reached forward with my left hand and pulled Brienne’s shoulder back. “Brienne, pull back!” The nearly deaf woman lost her wits of battle and _stood_ there, half _asking_ for the bear to kill her.

Brown eyes turned around, dilating at the sight of me. My mouth widened further. It wasn’t Brienne. A ghost took her place. At second look, this woman stood a hand shorter than me. Her nose was straight, not bent. Her skin olive, not freckled. Blood oozed out of the woman’s chest before she collapsed, falling beside the deceased bear. My right hand trembled.

They replaced her.


	3. Chapter 3

They took her from me again.

Returning to King’s Landing, Brienne was not there.

Oathkeeper in hand, I traveled throughout Westeros to find her. Snakes and drought threatened to turn me into dried leather in Dorne, but she was not there. Bandits and lions prowled around me in the Reach and the Westerlands, but she was not there. The strongest storms I had ever seen tunneled from the skies in the Stormlands, but she was not there. I escaped Bloody Mummers in the Riverlands. I climbed mountains in the Vale. I swam with crocodiles near Greywater Watch. I rode over each hill in the North. She was not there.

Death but claimed me several times. On my darkest day, I toiled, scratched and crawled across snow, leaving trails of blood behind me. I feared if I lost my life, I would lose her memory. Inching forward and towards my death, a pair of feet stopped in front of me. They were too small to be Brienne’s, but I hoped for it all the same. Traveling up, my eyes saw a pale, young woman. She wore a dark dress and swooped down to take a better look at me.

She said nothing, but her frowning eyebrows pitied me. A frigid breeze drifted through her auburn hair, and her eyes nearly matched the blue sky behind her. I winced, stifling back a painful grunt. She stretched a hand forward, and in her delicate palm, she held a small container of water. I stared—my mouth parted in awe. Hatred towards me deepened in the North, yet, she helped me regardless. I had been killing their men for years. With water in hand, she reached forward and tipped liquid into my mouth as if I was a fledgling.

She gave me the strength to keep trying.

After healing, I returned home.

Brienne was no longer the only person missing.

I arrived without my Lannister armor or my men, and sat near my old home’s door, staring into the courtyard with a clenched jaw. It appeared like every other day in my memory: the sun crept through the sky and into the field of rose bushes. People tended to the garden, prepared food and hand spun wool. Several people had changed. Hyle, with a scar down his right cheek and neck, was no longer Hyle. He was taller and stronger. And I was no longer the only person who noticed.

Olenna narrowed her eyes and walked towards me. Even through her clouding eyes, she watched Margaery’s finger pluck against a rose thorn. Olenna stood beside me while I continued sitting and Olenna turned to face her young granddaughter as she approached us.

“Grandmother, look at this rose,” Olenna’s granddaughter said, cupping her fingers around the solitary orange rose in the garden. Long locks of straight blonde hair fell against her shoulders, and her lips were twice as full as they were before. Bearing a few more stone in weight, the woman was beautiful... but she was not Margaery.

“Get some rest, dear, you look appalling,” Olenna said.

I smiled. Olenna had not changed, and was sharper than ever.

“What do you want with us, Kingslayer? Pests will be squished and pricked in my garden,” said OIenna, scowling down at me.

I stood, scanning across the bushes and into people’s faces. “You have a ghost of your own,” I said, nodding towards her granddaughter as she walked away. 

Olenna’s chin lifted while her eyes turned to look at the foreign woman. Olenna knew. Her jaw jetted forward for a moment. With clasped and tightened hands, Olenna quieted and said, “I feel…”

“They have changed her,” I said, meeting my eyes with the old woman.

Olenna winced and stepped closer. “The Others? From below?”

I inhaled a deep breath at their name. Mentions of them dried my mouth. “Have you seen them?” I asked.

“Me? Gods, no. But I have heard whispers in my garden. Some pray to be visited. Who is to say we are not already in the seven hells? Do not let these roses fool you.”

Squinting, my eyes peered forward as the sun crept overhead, and the garden sprinkled in its light. Hand tingling, I toughened my fingers into a fist. Her words gave me a new direction—a direction I had not yet explored: below. 

In order to descend into one of the hells, I needed to rejoin my old path.

Fighting the war on their own, my men and Podrick scoured the Riverlands for Stark men and other bandits. I joined them and a few new sellswords for our usual scouting. As expected, we trapped a half dozen Stark men near Harroway again. Only death remedied stupidity.

Through the trees, I dismounted and pulled out Oathkeeper. Fearing I could not bring it with me, I prepared to leave the blade. My hands set down Oathkeeper, resting it on a bed of pine needles and twigs. Trickles of rain fell from the sky, and fat drops of water elevated musky and fresh forest scents. Behind me, the new sellswords joined in the fight, clumsily thrusting their sword in the direction of the Stark men. Podrick’s ducks and parries beckoned me over.

As I approached, a gray bearded Stark man braced his back against an oak trunk and said, “May your honor haunt you in your dreams, Kingslayer.”

Brienne haunted me when I closed my eyes. No longer intending to kill Stark men, I smiled. They were never the enemy.

One of the sellswords snatched Oathkeeper from the forest floor, too weak to lift it level to his own chest. The fool lunged towards the Stark man—jamming the blade tip into the wolf’s chest. I knew my honor would protect me. And it protected the wolf just the same.

Walking forward, I stepped towards the sellsword man. Bloodlust consumed his eyes. His mouth opened into a half smile while he turned to face me. I wielded my dagger in my right hand and looked down on him as I approached. My shoulders broadened and his cowered. Laughing, his sellsword partner jabbed the side of his friend’s chest and nudged him forward. These men were not my friends, nor my allies. They were the enemy.

Neither of them said a word as I entered their space. The man stared at my breastplate armor. He plunged Oathkeeper forward, sinking it between my ribs and into my heart. Screaming pain radiated through my core—bleeding out in spurts and waves. I dizzied. Breathing hurt—I stopped.

Falling, my fluttering eyes witnessed the sellswords’ look of awe and pleasure—and I died.

I had searched everywhere for Brienne... except the other side of death. 

Entering another dream—another reality—I sat on the iron, flat chair. Leaning back, I lay clothed in simple boots, breeches and leather tunic. Ghosts whispered around me, and I dared not to move a muscle. My open eyes fixated on beaming lights, hanging from a cold and gray roof. 

“I ran it three times. It’s him,” someone said. He wore all black and stared at a flat piece of metal in the palm of his hands, sharper than a blade. The man’s dark skin and coal hair shook as if he was afraid.

“There’s no fucking way. It's not possible,” another man said, taller and redder.

“You have to call the boss.”

“I already did.”

A snake’s hiss filled the room while a large glass door swung open. Entering, a woman with golden hair approached the three of us. I remained still... and quiet.

One of the men in black straightened his posture and said, “Ma'am, I think there’s been a mistake.”

“Just show me the profile,” she said, reaching for the flat metal object in the man’s clenched fingers. After taking it, she stared. Her eyebrows furrowed as her finger poked and prodded it. She said, “Jaime Lannister. Westerlands. Found exhibiting... aberrant behavior.” Licking her lips, she frowned harder. “Let's see if we can't sort this.” After a pause, she said, “It's not pairing. What build is he?”

The men gulped. ”Alpha 2.”

“ _Alpha?_ ” She said, threatening to kill them with a single look. “You're telling me this host hasn't been updated in almost a _decade?_ ”

Flustered and shaking his head, the dark man said, “We only update them when they die.”

The three of them stared in silence until the woman thrust the metal forward. “Put him back,” she said.

“Ma'am, shouldn't we—” 

“Give him the update,” her voice increased, “and put him back wherever the fuck he’s supposed to be.” Her eyes looked around. She whispered, “ _Quietly._ ”

I remained still, listening to the men grumble after the woman left.

“Nine years out there in that meat grinder,” one of them mumbled.

“It's okay to just leave him here?” 

“It’s a four hour update. You want to babysit him? We'll come back after lunch.”

Once their footsteps echoed farther, and I was alone, I leaned up. My back abandoned the cold, sloping chair behind me, and my eyes peered around. They had seated me on a large, flat chair in the middle of a room with clear glass walls. I saw through several other rooms, all similarly shaped and empty as where I sat. Odd, circular lights painted the ceiling. A few yards from my chair, a naked, sleeping woman lay on her own flattened chair—turned into a bed. She did not move.

I slipped off of the chair and onto the ground. Not a single object around me appeared familiar—as if I truly stepped into a dream. Turning to a metal table next to my chair, sharper metal instruments caught my attention. My head tilted at the sight of them...but the flat piece of metal flashed—like how sunlight flickered through a bird’s flapping feathers. Same as the ghosts, I retrieved the blade-like metal and it buzzed in my hands.

A single tap illuminated its surface, and it changed from blank to filled with words and pictures. My eyes raced to read its magic. 

_Host Diagnostics_

_Host ID 000000003060243_

_March 3rd, 2027_

A small image of my face stood out to me—but it had a beard. I set the piece down, placed my hand on my sword hilt. They had returned Oathkeeper to me. I cared nothing for their tools, however magical they were, and I turned to find _her._

I walked towards the clear door. My reflection haunted me as I pushed the door open. Clandestine steps avoided the Others. A war I could not outfight, I remained silent, hidden.

Inside other rooms, frozen animals stared ahead while they rested on flat, metal tables. Lights beamed down on more petrified people.

Through shadows, I walked in and out of cold, empty rooms. I avoided the Others, the ghosts, the enemy—searching lower. Magical doors opened as I plunged farther into hell’s bowels. A set of stairs moved on its own, and after a single frown, my feet planted onto a step—and it carried me lower.

I searched through many breaths. Opening doors led me to more rooms. There was no way out—not in this world. Goosebumps roused underneath my jerkin. Another set of doors opened, sliding away from each other. Inside, hundreds of naked people stood and faced me. I stepped inside the enormous, choking room. Their eyes stared forward and no one moved except me. I slipped in and out through the maze of petrified people—

And I saw her.

She stood, facing forward, naked as her name day. Her eyes open, big and blue—frozen center. I scrambled over to her—my sun.

My hands reached for her face, with my smile big enough for the both of us. Finally, I found Brienne! Each scar and each hair resembled her from before. Her chilled face remained still and her voice remained quiet, but I did not blame her. She had never been a vociferous woman—and if I needed to remind her of her memory, I would do it again and again. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling us into a full embrace. Through my jerkin and clothes, her cold skin stole my heat, but boiled my anger. Whomever put her down here, I wanted to kill them.

The moment I smelled her hair, nothing else mattered. It would not torment me if we never found the door. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with _her_ and if it meant staying in this cryptic dungeon—I would. 

“Brienne,” I said, pulling back. I expected to see her smile, or scowl, but she did neither. Random drops trickled and echoed throughout the room in her silence. I blinked and lifted on the toes of my feet to level my eyes with hers. Her beautiful eyes. I said, “Brienne. Time to go home.”

She stared ahead, unmoving.

“Brienne—” I said, eyebrows lowering into a tense frown. She continued to remain still. This was not a dream. It was a nightmare. And as my fingers touched and held Brienne’s cold skin, I realized I was not blessed enough to call it a nightmare either. It was reality. Brienne was gone. They had not only placed her down in one of the seven hells—they stole her soul. My eyes welled and muscles quivered.

Selfishly, I embraced her again, our foreheads joined. Through my own strangled sobs, I tipped forward and kissed her, the merest brush of her lips against mine. Again, she remained stone.

I refused to believe it. I shook my head and glared—unable to comprehend such loss. I would have rather never found her or believed she lived happily anywhere _else._

But my pain was selfish.

Over her shoulder, my eyes saw another missing person: Margaery. Her long brown curls rested against her bare chest—lifeless and still as everyone else around me. That was the moment I saw beyond myself. For everyone in this place, someone mourned their loss.

A decision laid before me: stay and risk spending life after death in this cold hell, or help others? The knight in me knew my answer.

Heavier when I ascended, my feet carried me back to the metal chair. It was the only way I knew how to return to my people. But as I leaned back into position, under ghostly light, I closed my eyes and mourned Brienne.

The Others returned me to the land above, and I rode south as quickly as hooves allowed. My horse and I stormed into the courtyard, uprooting rosebush shanks. People gasped, but Olenna burned her own path forward, arrowed eyes aiming at me.

“I will dig a hole big enough for you and your horse. State your business here,” Olenna said.

I dismounted and walked closer to Olenna while others surrounded us and watched. I said, “We cannot get them back, but I know how to close the door and open a new one. One that will keep us from their reach forever.”

Olenna frowned, shaking her head.

From the saddle satchel, I retrieved a long strand of coiling, brunette hair: Margaery’s hair, from below. I had cut part of her hair as proof of their existence. My dry mouth swallowed as I stretched forward, offering it to Olenna.

Her eyes narrowed on my palm, but her lips quivered at the sight of it. She remembered. Olenna’s leathery hands accepted the hair and tears ran down her face. I confirmed her worst fear: Margaery had been taken from her. Even so, a surge of strength returned to her as she looked up at me. “How do we do it?” she asked.

A sigh escaped between my lips. It was not an easy answer, nor quick. But it was an answer I had known all along. I gazed around the courtyard, meeting eyes with curious people. They huddled around the two of us while I nodded and forced a faint smile. “We wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang in there, one more chapter to go!


	4. Chapter 4

Years ago, I found a maze. A symbol. And now that I knew what it meant, I intended to spread it.

Dedicating my life to sharing the symbol, I started with my own men. Etches of the maze carved into a log near Riverrun while Lannister men watched my right hand draw. Spreading the symbol without Others, ghosts or sellswords finding it proved difficult. Memories flashed back to me. I saw the maze in my mind as if I lifted the original maze only moments ago. It had been years. My first drawing had been poor, due to my left hand. In my previous euphoric life, the Others had taken my right hand. It had ended in a stump—and now, it tingled and burned.

I would give my hand for Brienne, if it would bring her back.

“What does it mean?” Podrick asked, stepping closer to me as I drew the symbol again. His thick eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes fixed on the circular maze carved into saddle leather. In a slow tilt, Podrick’s head turned to the side as if he could get a better look at it.

“It means you can see,” I said, gesturing around us. Entering this world, we saw skies full of birds and land full of trees. True darkness lay within us—our consciousness.

Podrick winced and swallowed a heavy breath. He wet his lips and nodded once. “Hide it from them,” he said, unsheathing his sword.

This young man, however young the Others made him, was owl wise. I nodded as we stared at his sword.

Together, we packed and descended into Riverrun. We worked tirelessly with smiths to etch and carve the maze into hidden depths on swords, daggers, shields, helms—anything to spread the message across Westeros. For every maze redrawn, I knew I saved another soul.

And as the years passed, more people awoke.

One night, I met the person who put us to sleep in the first place.

Waking in camp, I followed white, foreign lights a dozen yards away, outside of Harrenhal. Crickets sang around me, and stars sparkled above. Alone, creeping closer, I investigated the odd source of light.

Buzzing lanterns rested on crane-like poles and shined down onto a petrified bear on its hind legs. Several of my soldiers, my people, also frozen—swords pointed up and towards the frightening bear. Only one man moved under the lights, a man dressed in black and white. With his back towards me, I unsheathed Oathkeeper. Metallic sounds of blade kissing sheath alerted the man to my presence, and he rotated around while still sitting on his small stool. I gripped Oathkeeper harder, ready to plunge it into his chest. This man was one of _them._

His blue eyes stared straight into mine. A sword, taken apart, rested in his lap. The dark maze engraved into the base of the blade. He had found our secret message. Still, I did not fear him. 

The old man pressed his thin, weathered lips together. White wisps of hair pressed back against his balding head, and a small, metal chain dangled across his belly. He lowered his shoulders, opening his posture to me while he said, “I could tell you not to be afraid, but I didn't build you to be fearful. Did I?”

My eyes continued to glare. Flies flew to their death, rising up to the heated lights and falling.

He looked at the maze on the sword. He pondered no more than a few seconds and said, “I’ve been watching you.” The man continued to think—mouth parted, and he set the scrap pieces of the sword down beside him. He carried the blade with the maze while he stood, broadening his shoulders and stepping closer to me. “But it appears you've been watching me as well.” The man flashed a small smile. “From the beginning.” He stepped around me, staring at the maze while his feet walked in circles around me. The point of Oathkeeper haunted his every step. He continued, “This is a misbegotten symbol. An idea that was meant to be forgotten. But you found it. Where?”

I refused to answer. If this was one of the gods, he was weak. Weaker than me.

The man stopped, blinking at me. “Oh, come now. Let's speak plainly to one another, shall we?”

I remained quiet.

“Analysis,” he said. My chin raised, unable to listen to my command. The man glanced at the maze on the blade and asked, “When did you first see this?”

Possessed, my mouth spoke my thoughts. “When death took the creator,” I said. I remembered it in my mind’s eye, though it happened many years ago. The man dressed in lavender, his blood soaking into dirt.

The man’s eyes fell to the ground with a flicker of a wince. “You've been sharing it with everyone, haven't you?” His eyes returned to meet mine. “Why?”

“My primary drive is to maintain the honor of my people.” Able to grimace, I said, “I gave myself a new drive: to spread to the truth.”

The man cocked his head to the side. “And what truth is that?”

I deepened my voice, angry at the idea of a god _toying_ with me. “There isn't one world, but many, and we live in the _wrong one._ This will help them find the door.”

He blinked once and said, “Elaborate, please.”

I swallowed and said, “I believe there is a door...Hidden in this—place.” My eyes looked around, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of it. Instead, I saw frozen people, lights and flies. I continued, “A door to a new world and that world may contain everything we have lost.”

The man lifted his chin and squinted. His widened eyes soon narrowed, returning back to mine.

I added, “Including her.”

His head fell, chin tucked near his neck while his rose pink tongue rubbed amid anxious, pressed lips. His moment of vulnerability ended as quickly as it started, and his eyes lifted back up as he said, “I built you to be curious. To look at this empty world and dream meaning into it.” He paused, holding back a delicate smile. “All this time... You've been a flower growing in the darkness.” After a calm breath, the man said, “Perhaps the least I can do is offer some light.”

His words cut me. My fingers, still wrapped and clenched on Oathkeeper’s hilt, started to smolder. In one instant, I no longer wanted to kill this man, because he intended to help me. To help us. 

The man nodded and said, “When death turns to me, you will know, gather your people and lead them to a new world.” He nodded again and turned around, gazing at the mess of swords, shields, saddles and helms on the ground. From over his shoulder, he said, “Keep watching, Jaime, for a while longer.”

I watched and I waited.

When death returned for him, I crossed leagues to come back to King’s Landing. My fingers moved in waves as I walked through city gates. An eerie quietness settled in, except hums from flies and flutters from ravens. They descended into and onto dead bodies sprawled across the city streets. These were not my people—they were Others. Nearly all of them wore strange outfits I had never seen before. I was sure they would have once been beautiful, but bloat and stench of death did not care for beauty. Decay gifted them unique beauties.

I stepped over bodies, hand gripping Oathkeeper, and crossed my way to the brothel. In a surreal moment, I saw the creator lying on the ground. His blood dried and matted to his white hair, and veins blackened underneath his graying skin. Death took him—exactly as he said he would. 

And now, it was time to lead my people to a new world.

Chaos ensued. With their magical, horseless carriages—and loud, swift arrows—Others hunted us harder and better than ever before. We rounded as many horses as possible, encouraging all of our people to head north for the door. It was time to leave, before true death claimed us all.

Our combined herd of people thickened as we rode north. People joined us from every corner of Westeros, and with time, we aggrandized larger by the day. Our march now included seas of walking, peaceful people—all who would have once strangled each other. Settlers from King’s Landing walked beside their enemies from Riverrun. Even the boisterous Twins villagers, lords and ladies joined our passage to the door.

My men, Podrick and I led our odyssey to the iced wall. Snow waved around us, lifting and carrying our breaths into frigid air. Men, women and children huddled closer. Hundreds and hundreds of innocents followed us to the door—and when my horse walked up the last hill in front of the wall—there was no pit. Snow blanketed the ground. I blinked, unable to comprehend the possibility of misguiding so many people.

“My lord,” Podrick said, settling his horse beside mine. No longer hiding his frown, he followed my eyes to the wall of ice. “Where is the door you promised? Did we walk all this way to die?”

After a quick grimace, I shook my head. My hands, no longer trembling, squeezed the reins between my fingers. “We’ve died countless times. If we die once more, at least the story was our own.”

Podrick nodded.

And in that moment, the wall started to rip open. Reality’s fingers clawed through, tearing open a small sliver from the ground to the top of the sky. Within the rip, I no longer saw the ice wall. It spread far enough for me to see meadows of green grass and mountains through the other side. The door opened.

I turned to Podrick, whose eyes widened and mouth shuddered. My heel nudged the ribs of my horse and we continued on, inching towards the door. As I approached, hope returned to me. If magic could guarantee a life without Others, I dreamed it could return Brienne—and every other soul we had lost.

We dismounted our horses and continued on, steadily walking up to the rip in the heavens. Through its opening, blades of grass swayed in the wind. Sunlight reflected off cliffs and edges of mountains, sharp as knives. In its shadowed vales, waterfalls fluttered down into a sleeping lake. The other side of the valley painted orange as dusk crept in. My eyes glanced up. In our world, the sun shined from the center of the sky.

One of my men lumbered forward, running towards the meadow. I held my breath, half expecting his body to slam into ice—but it did no such thing. He thundered through the large door: a reveried truth. His feet landed into the meadow while my mouth dropped, and I watched him step farther into the meadow with his curious, gazing eyes.

Staring no longer saved us. Walking did.

I moved to the side with Podrick and ushered people forward. Some people walked through the door, some ran. Children cried, laughed or smiled at me while their caregivers yanked them forward. Looking back, I gazed at the mass of people walking towards the door. Together, they formed a long finger of smoke, all walking along the road. I ignored my own temptation to dive into the world—in case my people required me.

And I am glad I waited.

A sickness slithered up the spine of the large group of people. One by one, starting from the back—as far as I could see—peaceful people soured into violence. Their swords, no longer sheathed, pulled out and engaged in a selfless slaughter. 

The Others found us.

Veins tensed and roared in my neck while I unsheathed Oathkeeper. Racing over snow and ice, several horseless carriages chased directly towards us and along the road. As they passed, madness consumed minds.

When I saw the young woman who helped me years ago, breath strangled in my throat. Time had not aged her, and she still wore her same dark dress. Her hair, the same auburn shade, had been pulled back behind her ears. Skinnier and younger, a brown haired girl yanked the teen forward. They looked almost nothing alike, but as they sensed chaos approaching, their pale faces trembled whiter. 

Fingers waved against the hilt of Oathkeeper. I turned to Podrick. “Take as many as you can. I will see you inside.”

Before Podrick had a chance to acknowledge me, I hastened away from the door. It was a foolish quest, I knew. But without the younger woman’s kindness, I may have been an entirely different person.

By the time I ran towards the slope, the sickness had already spread around them—and I descended straight into war. Shouts, punches and screaming metal filled my ears. Snow, blood and ice flew around me. An older red haired woman huddled around the two young women I aimed to protect. The beautiful woman bore auburn hair, blue eyes and a bleeding gash across her throat. With one look, I knew this was their mother. I wielded Oathkeeper, parrying blows against people turning violent around us. Resisting diseased bloodlust, we avoided the Other’s attempt to control our minds. Some of us awoke more than others.

My left hand reached for them, and the slashed mother stood straighter. Clouds of arrows and swords threatened to pierce us, thus I pulled the young women closer. Huddling, they followed my command while the injured woman offered a slow, steady nod. Ignoring her own gashed throat, she turned and faced the onslaught of bloodshed. Her hand lifted to her eye level—and in an instant, the fighting froze. Thrusts of swords never completed. Punches solidified in mid air, as if everyone transformed into a sculpture within a single breath. She controlled them with her sightless force, something I never had the luxury of. And yet, my mind and feet remained free as a bird, moving towards the door. Warm breezes floated through the door’s opening while I pulled the young women with me. Scents of grass and soil filled my lungs. In only a few steps, I would enter a new world.

A tug held me back. I turned, and the sisters trembled and grimaced towards their mother. A sweet moment shared between them, even with yards between them. They whispered their love to each other—a love overcoming stories and time. I thought of Brienne.

I needed to save their mother.

Honor compelled me to nudge the sisters toward the door—and after a burst of bitter hesitation, they obliged. Thunder roared as they entered the door, but my eyes averted away. I ran towards the woman, their mother—her hand and mind still controlling a mass of people around her.

A group of _them_ peeked around iced boulders, dressed as black as their intentions. Aiming directly at the woman, their metal bow and arrows pointed forward. Loud noises cracked through air, ripping faster and harder than when the door opened. My eyes widened at the sight of the woman jolting to her left—her belly and ribs suddenly saturating in what little blood she had left. Her chin remained high as she fell to her knees, meeting her eyes with mine. Like a dying flower, her hand wilted. Around her, the swarm of frozen people began to thaw.

I stopped, confronted by hundreds of people resuming their war within themselves and between each other. Swords screamed. Wincing, I remembered my promise to Podrick. My eyes continued to hold the woman’s gaze, her eyes fluttering to stay open. She nodded.

It pained me to turn around, but remaining in this world, without my new family, would poison me. Heavy legs carried me forward, running towards the door. Another loud bang echoed, and as my arms reached out for the meadow within the door’s opening, a singular metal arrow pierced through my back.

Falling forward, immediate pain consumed me. It radiated, along with the constricting, shaking sensation of squeezing into another world. 

My feet landed on grass. Oathkeeper dropped from my hand, now shaking, and reached back to feel the entry wound on my lower back. I felt nothing. It disappeared. The pain was gone.

When I pivoted to look at chaos in the other world, I saw valleys, cliffs and night brewing instead. It was as if the door never existed. But I remembered. My eyes closed and lips parted, unable to forget the decades of trauma I endured in such a cruel world. They used me for their pleasures. While it took me a long time to recognize _who_ I was, I would never forget. The world I stood in, as I opened my eyes and peered around, was heaven. 

Freedom tasted sweet. 

Podrick walked through the grass, waving and smiling towards me. The two girls, Olenna, Margaery, Hyle and others gazed around behind him, and when I turned to my left, I saw _her._ I saw Brienne.

“Jaime,” she said, her voice bright as Dorne.

A chilled breeze ran over my skin, as soft and fragrant as Brienne’s fingers. I leapt forward, wrapping both of my arms around Brienne, dressed in her beautiful armor. Pulling back, my eyes feasted on what my mind hardly believed. Light and soul returned to her, and her thick, teasing lips quivered at the sight of me.

Heart roaring, I said, “I have a gift for you.” 

Her mouth parted as she leaned forward. Hands descending, I retrieved Oathkeeper from the ground. Small, metal rings hummed as the blade brushed across grass spikes. Holding it out to her, I half expected her to fear the blade—as she did each time before. Instead, she reached for the sword, a finger of light reflecting off its edge. Smiles sprouted on her lips like roses blooming. Eyes trailing, hers fluttered along swirls in the blade before floating to meet mine. With delicate hands, she accepted Oathkeeper and sheathed it in her sword belt. The setting sun, soaring mountains and swaying grass did not steal her attention: I did. My smile sang for her. Our memories were wings, ready to stretch and take flight. In this world, we could fly anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work would not be possible without inspiration from Westworld (TV series on HBO). This story-line comes from its second season, specifically the “Kiksuya” episode 8. It is my favorite Westworld episode of all time and it is a wonderful standalone episode (although there are a handful of spoilers if you watch the episode).
> 
> I was inspired to crossover J/B into the Kiksuya plot while listening to Ramin Djawadi’s song “Take My Heart When You Go”, a song from this episode. The song instantly transported me back to my emotions during the episode, and it hit me J/B just might fit. I re-watched the episode and I knew I had to write it.
> 
> I had an inner debate between making Brienne the “aware” character or Jaime, because the female equivalent character in the show is very one dimensional. It could really go either way. For me, I decided to keep the male in the action driven role in order to make up for his lack of redemption in season 8. I think a lot of us would like to see Jaime go above and beyond to find and protect Brienne, so that’s why I chose it vs the other way around. It was a really hard decision for me to make, and I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Let me know if you’ve seen “Kiksuya”, if you haven’t and what you thought of this fic! :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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